A Fine Line
by Victoria Breckon
Summary: Remus and Tonks discover that with happiness comes an assortment of angles and a twisted amount of problems.  How will the two cope with love, birth, death, and combat? Will everything turn out happy in their fairytale story of witcraft and wizardy?
1. Chapter 1

There was no giving up in this fight. She was going to get her way, no matter what, even if it could possibly harm someone.

Even those that she loved.

"Dammit, Remus!" Tonks crashed her fists into their sad excuse for a kitchen table; it wobbled hopelessly on its remaining limbs. "You promised! You _promised!"_

"I did," Remus replied in a soft voice; it was pushing the line of causality, which was definitely not appropriate given their situation. "But we never talked the detai—"

"Yes we did!" Cried an enrage Tonks, who looked to be on the verge of steaming tears. "You told me that with this—" She lifted her quivering hand to reveal the small, pewter ring, "—that we would have everything that we had ever wanted. You _knew _that that involved a child! And suddenly, after you've done all the dirty work, you want to back out? No! That's just not going to happen! I am _not_ going to stand for this, Remus Lupin!"

Her partner bowed his head in almost a defeat, eyes boring self-loathed holes into his rugged, dragon hide shoes. He had to tell her. She would only be more anguished if he waited, if he prolonged the moment. With a dark grunt of a chuckle, he scuffed his heels.

What was he to do? If he told her, the yelling and ambushing would only increase; if he were to wait, he would receive a false sense of hope and calm, and would only be waiting for the storm that was sure to follow.

Remus decided to wait.

And so he did.

The day continued, Tonks, eventually, burning off her anger and blowing out altogether, like a candle. Mumbling and cursing under her breath, she nearly ripped the door off of its hinges as she left for work only hours later, half showered and only a quarter of her mind focused on the tasks before her.

Remus drug his feet around until he found himself in their bedroom, sheets still mangled and tangled from their sleep of the previous night. Tonks had had a particularly rough night, the inhabitants of her belly causing her a great pain, obviously emotionally and physically. She had rolled over on her back, swearing softly under her breath as a hand flew up to caress her swollen belly. "Tonks?" Remus had called, rubbing rare sleep out of his eyes.

"I'm fine," she muttered, bangs of her dull brown locks creating a curtain to hide her eyes. "Just go back to sleep."

"What trouble that baby is, inside now and soon to be out," Remus had muttered mistakenly.

And that was when the arguing had began.

The screaming.

The cries.

The moans.

The fights.

Was Remus John Lupin excited to be a father? Of course he was.

Though he was desperately terrified, terrified of what they had created. He himself was already a danger to the community if it weren't for the Wolfsbane. Who's to say the same couldn't be said for their little bundle of possible Hell? What if he didn't respond to the potion. Would he transform every month, since he was only half werewolf? Would he be an outcast at school? What would happen if they couldn't make the Wolfsbane in time?

Tonks didn't seem to realize his fear that was bubbling inside him, slowing brewing, mixing together all the right herbs and spices before it would soon be released.

Remus practically loathed the future baby, and yet loved him with all of his heart. He wondered idly if this was what Tonks thought of him. It sure seemed that, lately, she wasn't too fond of him.

Could she ever find the guts, the willpower, to leave him?

That would leave him empty. He would just be a lame carcass, lying helplessly on the ground. Every day he would be massacred by people, by their relentless feet that would topple over him, that would treat him like the true filth he was. He would be alone. He would be miserable. Somehow, he knew that if she were to leave him he would have to struggle every morning to find the willpower to wake himself up, to force his aching bones and heart out of bed, ready to face another pain-inspired day.

And yet he would do it. Remus would find the only will he would have.

His son.

Somehow, as much as Remus John Lupin hated the thought of his son, of the soon-to-be monster he had created with a monstrous women, he knew that, in time, he would grow to love the boy.

After all, he would be his own flesh and skin. He would be perfect. Remus would help him through everything, through all the pains and struggles of being what he was. He would have to teach him that with hard work came a sense of pride and, often, joy. As much as Remus was scared, he was shaking with excitement of his chance to finally do something right.

It was then that he would finally realize that he needed to calm himself, wait for Tonks to stumble through the door, and welcome home his lovely wife that was carrying their similar bundle of twisted joy.


	2. Chapter 2

Remus had gone out of his way to prepare a lovely dinner that would green an awaited Tonks. Tall glasses of butterbeer bubbled at the table, nearly overflowing with the warm, toasty feeling that would soon escape them. A basket of baked French bread sat on the table adjacent from a bowl of fresh apples, pears, and oranges. One of their many chipped plates was placed in the basking light that was the center of the table; its inhabitants, two succulent steaks, one rare and one well done, seemed to soak in the beams, enjoying the limelight. Remus pulled out one of the chairs, its legs scraping harshly against their scratched oak floor. It was only then that the front door swung open, vicious winds tearing through their shabby house. Tonks pushed her way through the opening, dull chocolate hair taking off for flight in the drastic wind. The door slammed shut, leaving the tablecloth disheveled, the candles burned out, and a shivering expecting mother standing in the doorway.

"Tonks!" Remus revealed an awaited, rare smile that showed his teeth and mood: excited, accompanied by a tinge of parental worry. "How are you?"

"Freezing," Tonks muttered, pulling her sweater around her enlarged torso as her hands collapsed on her knees. Remus crossed the room, placing is hands gently on his wife's shaking shoulders. Slowly, they slid down to rest on her lower back. Gradually, her frigid figure began to thaw as the heat of Remus's body transferred to hers like two opposite poles of magnets being slowly slid together.

"Dinner's ready," Remus murmured, his rough voice pressing a little extra heat against Tonks's neck.

"I see," Tonks replied in an expressionless voice; clearly she had not forgotten the argument that had occurred this morning. If truth be told, Remus hadn't quite forgotten it himself. Though he was a man with a mission; Remus was determined to mend any feelings that had been damaged. Hardly anything could bring him down—except maybe a strong will and case of stubbornness.

Tonks possessed both.

She slowly slipped out of her husband's comforting hold, slinking into the heated kitchen.

Something was on her mind, Remus noted. She was always gabbing bout something, whether it be a new Weird Sister album or a mission she felt her fellow auror had no business (or usually experience) completing. But no, a dead, dreary silence filled the kitchen. Remus grabbed a box of matches, eagerly striking them in hopes of bring the candles to life and maybe some extra light into the room.

The opposite was applied.

"Good day at work?" Remus asked at supper, tearing his bloody steak into strips as he slowly began to devour his supper.

"Fine."

"Anything new with the mission?"

"Nope."

"How do you feel? Baby giving you fits?"

"Not lately."

"Say, did Rhonda ever come back from Romania? You seemed to be pretty chummy with her."

"Yeah."

Tonks hadn't taken a single bite of her food, let alone picked up a fork or even bother to spread a napkin across her lap.

Something serious was going on.

"Tonks, dear, everything alright? You aren't exactly acting yourself…"

"I should be fine," Tonks began, running a hand through the dull, chocolate hair that had once been a bright, vibrant pink. "I should have a husband who is excited to be a father. I should be beaming with a radiant smile. I should be care-free, even though there are too many damn things to worry about, like how we're going to make ends meet when he have another mouth to feed. But yeah, Remus, I'm fine, don't worry about me. It's not like you did that too much before."

"Tonks, I am excited to be a dad!" Remus explained in his husky, baritone voice, much like a parent explain something painfully obvious to a small child. Her words hurt; did she truly think he wasn't the least bit excited? "I'm brilliantly excited!" He added, trying to convince her.

"Why, then," Tonks muttered sourly, "do you always seem _so_ ecstatic about the idea? Whenever I bring up the subject, or something comes up about it, all I hear from you is gloom and doom?"

"Tonks, I—"

"And then," Tonks continued, voice rising in intensity, "we get into these damn arguments that _brighten up_ my day so much, they're all I think about! I can't focus! They're stressing me out, Remus! As if I don't have enough to worry about already, not to menti—"

The door swung open to yet another guest, this one unexpected.

He seemed to blend in with the dark night; his midnight skin seemed to gleam with a light of its own. Emerald eyes were set into a serious gaze, fixing upon Tonks first, then Remus.

Tonks stood up quickly. "What's the matter, Kingsley?" she asked, gripping onto the chair for support.

"Urgent news from the Order. Tonks, don't even waste your energy, Moody isn't permitting you to join us."

"What?" Tonks cried, foot bashing into the floor in a fit of rage. "Why?"

"You're eight and a half months pregnant, Nymphador—"

"Shackelbolt, don't call me Nymphadora."

"Tonks, Moody told me to do this. I'm sorry, but I can't go against orders."

"But I'm your best au—"

"You are. We will be fine. Remus—" He stole a glance at the shaggy, rugged man. "I need you to follow me."

"What is the problem, Kingsley?" He asked in a voice that seemed to quiver with the wind that crashed against their windows and seeped into their house.

"I'll explain on the way, we need to hurry."

With a nod, Remus rose, crossing the room to throw on his coat. He stole a long glance at Tonks, hoping to show her that he would be counting the minutes until he could get back to her and their baby. She, however, was fuming, pale lips stretched into a tight, think line; her arms were crossed over her bulging belly, eyes slanted with anger and disappointment that she couldn't accompany him in this mission.

"Will be in touch," Kingsley told her, and in a flash they were gone.


	3. Chapter 3

"Tonks, deary, sorry to be arriving so late, Ginny only just got home and Arthur had to stay late with the Ministry, what with everything that's been going on! Fred and George have been driving me mad, I swear if their father could be there for every lick of trouble they get themselves into— Oh. Oh my." The witch stopped her frantic babbling to acquire a look at the troubled mother-to-be, who was still sitting at her place in the kitchen, an unthawed preservation of time.

The candles had been extinguished. The once lively flowers wilted in their vase, which appeared to have been slammed against the harshly scrubbed wood; splinters of glass formed a deadly obstacle course on the surface of the table. Food remained on the table, frigid and mostly uneaten. The light that had once filled the atmosphere had been extinguished all together; the woman was a mere reflection of everything around her: cold and forgotten.

Her pale face rose only slightly to catch a glimpse of her visitor before an unexpected wave of tears racked through her; soon, she was falling.

Everything around her was blurry and unfocused.

Nothing made sense.

She was in a race, the finish line inching closer and closer as she sprinted after it, reaching out to touch the line and declare herself winner and bathe in a light of accomplishment.

Though right before her hand graced the material, she stumbled and fell.

Her bulging belly hit the pavement, its aura extinguished forever.

And that's when the screams started.

_Tonks stretched, stretched into the arms of Remus, her bare neck and torso gleaming against his. His hands slowly descended and placed themselves on her stomach, and for once a truly peaceful laugh escaped his being. The Dark Lord was defeated; the two of them had made it out alive. Tonks nudged her nose under his scruffy, scarred chin, kissing him softly. He was hers. Forever._

The sunlight ripped through the pastel curtains, nearly blinding the rising witch. Her eyes were crusted with sleep; cocoa hair was pasted to her forehead with sweat for glue, sticking out at odd angles, a tangle of crescendos and decrescendos. She had clearly had a rough night; gleams of tears were obvious on her cheeks, light makeup streaks painting her face. Someone had clearly tucked her in; a saucer of tea sat untouched on her nightstand.

Tonks felt as though she was being swallowed by the bed.

It was only until she realized that it was because of Remus's absence that the events of last night slowly crept into view.

Remus was gone.

Someone was here. Taking care of her. In her house.

With a quick start, Tonks threw her legs over the edge of the bed, pulling on a robe that stretched tightly across her stomach. She wobbled hopelessly into the kitchen and was graced by the fumes of roasting sausages, frying eggs, and baking bread.

"Excuse the mess, Molly." Tonks muttered apologetically.

"Don't you dare apologize, Tonks, you have many other things on your mind at the moment than silly housework. It was no trouble at all, just a few simple spells." The older witch paused to glance at a woman she considered her daughter, waved her wand a few times, and soon breakfast was on the table, ready to be eaten. "Tonks, deary, must come and eat… You aren't just eating for yourself, you know. Say, I bet Mister Lockhart would have a few words to say about certain spells to enrich the food bet—"

"I'm sure he would," Tonks muttered. "I have some words for him, too. Kiss my ass."

Molly Weasley merely raised her eyebrows; she had gone through a similar spell of emotions many times before.

"Well, at least come and eat. Merlin knows you don't need to be hungry _and_ upset. A little food will warm you up. C'Mon, there we go," she added as the miserable witch made her way to the table.

Soon, all that could be heard was the scraping of forks and knives against the hard chinaware, an odd, quiet tension filling the room. An owl suddenly scraped a talon against the glass window above the sink; once opened, it fluttered in and dropped a single piece of scraggly parchment atop Tonk's head, startling the witch with obviously other things on her mind. Soon, her fingers tore open the seal, reading the letter first to herself and then aloud; the time it took her to do so was remarkable.

"Tonks—

I must be as vague as possible, but I thought it best you know that I made it to where I needed to be alright. I'm ok. We have a good, safe plan in order and are planning to pursue it. I know that you'll be taken care of well until I can be there to do it myself. Keep warm by the fireplace.

Romulus"

"Well, it's a good thing he's alright, right?"

"I'd rather he burn in hell."

"Tonks, you don't mean that. Let's put on a straight head—"

"No! He was wrong! Maybe if he hadn't of been called to urgent business… If I could have gone with him… If he just would have agreed or at least pretended to be happy—" Another wave of hot tears threatened to spill from the witch's eyes. She crammed her knuckles into them, squeezing them shut, trying to get rid of the dark reality that was beginning to sink in.

"Deary, I know this must be tough—"

"Tough? …You're right."

"But he'll be back. The Order merely needed his assistance. You can't go blaming him for being taken out for work… He'll be back. I've seen you two together, and that is the only time I can truly say I've seen Remus happy. You mean so much to him. He's probably just scared beyond his good wits, that's all."

"Scared? Of what?" Tonks retorted, the legs of her chair scraping backwards as she removed her knuckles, looking at Molly through puffy red eyes.

"What he's made possible."

"Made possible…? What do you… So you're siding with him!" A new wave of anger began to seep into the room; the tsunami was just beginning, the earthquake winding up a fist of yelling and—

"I'm not siding with either of you. I'm looking at this from both perspectives, and I don't think you're giving him a chance to explain himself. You're immediately becoming defensive because this baby is what you want."

"And he doesn't want it either?"

"I have all the faith in the world that Remus will eventually want this child." Molly explained in a patient, calm voice. "I believe he's terrified for the future of his baby, given what he was forced to go through. He doesn't want anyone getting hurt, and if someone had to be sacrificed in any event, he would want himself to be that someone."

"But that's ridiculous!" Tonks murmured, her eyes shifting up to her forehead.

"He's ridiculous for you." Molly said in a knowing voice. "Now I'm not saying that he's completely right, either. It was your two decisions combined to have a child, and you have both got to live with this decision, you're too far along to do anything about it now." She watched as Tonks nodded to herself, stewing about one thing or another or possibly dealing with another dose of hormones.

After a long while, Tonks gazed up at her motherly figure. "I'm sorry for lashing out at you, Molly. It's just—"

"There's no need to explain, deary, I've been in your position before." With a curt nod, the older witch cleared the table with a few waves, and the two soon found themselves sitting on the warm stones of the hearth, watching a fire crackle magically and filling the room with a similar atmosphere.

It was only when Remus's face filled the fire that the glow seemed to extinguish.


End file.
